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Sabrina blinked. “Goodness. That was effective.”
“Should keep him down for a while.” He glanced at Emmy. “Sorry about the mess, lass.”
Emmy shrugged. “I’ll have a couple of the lads dump ’im out back in the alley, then I’ll close up. That should give ye a head start.”
“I’m obliged.”
Tilly joined them and gave Bill’s leg a kick. “Still say ye shoulda killed him.”
Sabrina extracted a plain linen handkerchief from her reticule and handed it to the girl. “That would have been inappropriate, dear, and most unhelpful.”
“You’re taking all this mayhem rather well,” Graeme said.
Sabrina shot him a wry look. “I seem to be growing immune to mayhem. My poor father would be horrified.”
“Och, lass, he’d just blame it on me.” Graeme ushered her and Tilly up the stairs to the street.
* * *
In the end, it had been almost ridiculously easy.
After a ten-minute walk, they’d reached the Orphan Home for Friendless Boys, a tall, soot-stained building with a forbidding atmosphere. Graeme had asked Sabrina—instructed her, more accurately—to let him do the talking. For once, she’d been happy to do so.
A porter had ushered them into a small parlor to wait for the matron and the superintendent. Although covered in ghastly brown wallpaper that amplified the grim atmosphere, the room was tidy and respectably furnished.
As Tilly had warned them on the walk over, the superintendent had proven to be the problem. Supercilious and suspicious, he’d initially resisted their attempts to have Charlie released into their care. The matron, a kind and rather motherly sort, had advocated for the boy’s release, but was ordered to keep silent by her superior.
Graeme had been deferential up until that point, as deferential as a Kendrick apparently could be. But then he’d undergone a startling transformation. Sabrina had always seen him as a man more comfortable in the shadows than in the ballrooms of Mayfair. Not rough, but no typical gentleman, either. Much of the time, one would never have guessed him a son of one of the noblest houses in Scotland.
And yet that is precisely what he became at the orphanage. He assumed an air of authority as impressive as his height, informing the superintendent that he would be consulting with his brother, Lord Arnprior, as to certain irregularities he suspected in the home’s management. Graeme had then thrown out thinly veiled references to Lady Arnprior’s close relationship with the king. The combination had the superintendent’s resistance crumpling like a used serviette. Sabrina had then handed over a few banknotes, and the deed was done.
When she’d stood to join the others in fetching Charlie from the orphanage’s workroom, Graeme had narrowed his aristocratic gaze on her and suggested she remain in the parlor. Much to her surprise, Sabrina had found herself dropping right back into her chair.
Graeme Kendrick could be impressively masterful and dominating, and it wasquiteannoying that she found such behavior so attractive.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back on the street. Charlie, a darling, red-haired boy with his sister’s eyes, clung to Tilly.
“I knew ye’d spring me, Tilly-willy,” he said in a tearful voice. “But I was afraid I’d die afore you got me out o’ there.”
“Nae, love,” Tilly gruffly replied as she hugged him. “I’d never let anything happen to ye.”
Graeme crouched down in front of the boy. “Did someone in the orphanage hurt you, Charlie? The superintendent?”
The child rubbed his eyes with his nubby, oversized sleeve. Sabrina made a mental note to provide both children with new clothing.
“Not him, though he’s a scaly one. Some of the bigger boys used to give me a drubbin’ ’cause I’d stick up for—” He grimaced and swallowed any further remark.
“Stick up for me,” Tilly finished. “’Cause of what I look like.”
Sabrina felt her stomach tighten with anger, but Graeme simply ruffled the boy’s hair.
“You’re a brave lad, Charlie,” he said. “Good for you.”
Sabrina couldn’t help bristling. “Sir, that hardly seems the appropriate—”
“So, what’s the plan?” Graeme interrupted, giving her a warning glance as he rose to his feet.
She bit back a tart observation and took a moment to collect herself. “Perhaps Tilly and Charlie might return to Heriot Row with us? Then we could have something to eat and a chat about . . .”
